CSI: Party Fever
by OutOfDate
Summary: [Challenge Fic GSR] Angst and romance flow along with the champagne as the CSI team attends the annual Policemen's Ball.
1. Invitations or Mandates?

**Author's Notes**: This fic is being made as a response to XxImaginaryLightxX's fanfic challenge from the yourtaxdollarsatwork (dot) org forums. The conditions?

The Policeman's Ball  
---CSIs (Day and Night shift) must go  
---Dress Shopping for Sara  
---The phrase: "Did Ecklie just challenge me to a dance off?" (Must be said by Grissom)  
---Sara and Griss do the tango!  
---Open bar  
---Drunk Greg  
---A picture of Sara and Greg with: Sara holding up the hem of her dress to her thigh to reveal a garter and Greg holding up his pants leg to reveal the same color garter.  
---Any length  
---Any rating  
---GSR (Of course)

It's my first CSI fic, as well as my first fic outside of the anime realm. I hope it's well received.

**Disclaimer:** Keep in mind; I don't own CSI or any characters etc. If I did I'd be writing episodes, not fanfics.

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter One – Invitations . . . or Mandates?

* * *

Gil Grissom surveyed the piece of cardstock in his hand silently as he sat at his desk, leaning back after a rather grueling night shift. They'd succeeded in closing a double-homicide case, two B&E's and a hit and run after weeks of evidence gathering and analysis. The taxing shift was punctuated by an equally exhausting invitation. The prospect of the annual Policeman's Ball had not bothered him in previous years; he'd merely be sure to find something to occupy his time. Picking up shifts, attending conventions and conferences out of state, or just spending the evening at home with his scientific journals. This year it seems they'd caught onto him, however, as the invitation had a note scrawled across it, making it clear that if he didn't attend he'd regret it. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, exactly, but his mind touched on a number of plausible threats; they could cut back on the overtime they allowed him, take away his secondary office he'd thus far been using to contain his many insects . . . He grimaced.

He'd never been the most social of men, preferring his text books and research papers to parties and dates. He didn't have any real problem with spending time with others, but throughout his youth he'd distanced himself from his peers. While the other kids were playing sports or riding bikes he was dissecting animals and loitering around the morgue. While the other teens found interests in making out with their girlfriends and going to movies he spent his time reading classic novels and studying the latest scientific theories. As a result he'd found interacting with others in his adulthood to be a bit of a struggle. Sure, he could pass himself off as a friendly-enough guy, but it was not without tremendous effort. His eyes panned over the invite once more. This wasn't going to be the best of nights for Gil Grissom.

* * *

Sara chewed her lower lip as she read over the elegant calligraphic words of the invitation. A party? At first thought she'd smiled, glad for a chance to let her hair down with her fellow CSIs. A reflexive sidelong glance down the hallway had dampened those spirits however as she saw a stone-faced Grissom reading over a piece of cardstock similar to the one she held. He seemed to be having some sort of inner conflict that Sara doubted she'd really be able to comprehend, though she'd gladly listen if he had ever cared to share. But Gil Grissom wasn't exactly that great at sharing, she'd come to realize.

The night of fun, she surmised, would not be quite as fun as she originally thought. Grissom would probably just shrug it off as usual and spend the night doing . . . whatever it was Grissom did when not at work, which would leave Sara at the party, but her thoughts with him. She knew that he was out of his element among crowds, and was reluctant to push him into anything he wasn't willing to do, but she couldn't help but feel pity for him when she was out with friends and she knew he was home alone.

She didn't _want_ to pity him; she'd prefer to go about her life and spend time with her friends, maybe go out on a date or two. But she couldn't, just knowing he was still there. Sara groaned, leaning forward onto the break table to lay her head on her folded arms. What to do . . .

"So, Sara . . ." Greg bounced into the room happily, sitting across from her at the table. Sara peeked one eye above her arm to see him smiling at her, holding a similar invitation in his hand. She was fairly sure what he was here for, "I see you also have received an invitation to the party," the lab rat motioned towards the paper Sara was still holding, "So, whatdya say, wanna go with me?"

She sighed, sitting back up, "Actually I think I'm going to sit this one out. Maybe next year, Greg."

"Heh, good luck," Catherine came sauntering into the break room and commenced pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee, "The powers that be have decided no one's getting out this year," she explained, "Lindsey wanted to go to the lake for the weekend but as luck would have it the higher-ups have decided to make attendance mandatory," she frowned.

"Mandatory?" Sara repeated, knowing what that may mean.

"Oh yeah," Catherine nodded, retiring to the break table with her fresh coffee, "And you know what that means."

"Grissom's coming?" Greg suppressed a laugh, "Does he even dance?"

Sara would've smiled at the prospect of an evening of dancing and formal wear with Gil Grissom had she not known that this wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He probably wasn't going to be too happy about this. Not to mention she couldn't exactly say she'd be spending the time with him, as he'd probably spend his time half-pouting in the corner somewhere. She didn't mind that he was inclusive, it was just his way. But it wasn't going to make this any easier.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** First off, sorry this chapter is so short. I'm very sick (bronchitis) and all of my energy is being put into my swooning. Seriously, didn't everyone love Grave Danger tonight? I'll update ASAP with lots more angst . . . I mean GrissomSara-ness. LOL 


	2. Dress to Impress

**Author's Notes:** Here we go again. Thanks for all your reviews, I do love them so. And I'm getting better, but still am quite sick. I'll try and trudge through writing another chapter, just because you all gave me such great reviews. Y'all're great. Much better than them anime fanfic reviewers. Hehe, no offense to them, but you guys are a much more receptive audience. And I appreciate that. Thumbs up and cookies for all of you.

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter Two – Dress to Impress

* * *

Sara pursed her lips as she peered in the window of a rather small boutique. The dress in the window wasn't really her style. She hoped Catherine knew that too. Sighing, she resigned herself to one of the wrought iron benches on the sidewalk outside the shops. She'd only just arrived and Catherine wouldn't be considered late for another five minutes or so. She groaned. Catherine had metaphorically cornered her in the locker room at the end of shift.

_"So . . . what are you wearing to the party?" The woman said, acting nonchalant as she pulled her work shoes off._

_"Oh, I don't know . . . I have an old dress or two somewhere," Sara'd responded defensively. She didn't assume this conversation would take them somewhere she wanted to be._

She was right. She checked her watch again. 'The last way I wanted to end the shift would be dress shopping with Catherine,' Sara thought wryly to herself, 'Why's she doing this, anyways?'

_"Well that won't do," Catherine said as if it were fact as opposed to opinion, shooting down Sara's descriptions of the few dresses she had at her disposal, "Don't you even want to look nice?"_

_Rather offended, Sara huffed back, "Why, it's just a work party . . ."_

_The older woman rolled her eyes._

'I think she knows,' the thought knocked in the back of Sara's brain as she watched the cars pass by. 'But even if she does know, since when would Catherine wish to play _matchmaker_ for Grissom and I?' Sara half-snorted, 'But it's not like she has any _other_ reason to be nice to me. Sure she's not been such a bitch as of late, but she's got no reason to be nice either.'

As Sara's over-analyzing mind wrestled with the actions of her co-worker she glanced up the street to see the woman in question walking towards her from the monorail drop-off point a few blocks down.

"Sorry," Catherine sighed, rather disgruntled, "My car broke down; I had to have it towed."

"Oh, well, we can do this some other time—" Sara flailed wildly for any excuse to get out of shopping with this woman.

"No, I've come this far, not about to give up on you now, Sara," Catherine smiled, putting Sara a bit off-guard, "Let's find you something to wear," she motioned towards the many shops on the street, herding the woman into the nearest one.

The shop was small and dim, dresses hung everywhere in every fashion and color, every cut and fabric. A tall thin woman well into her fifties approached them gracefully, nodding to each in turn, "How can I help you?"

"My friend," Catherine motioned towards Sara, "Needs a dress for a party," she pushed Sara lightly towards the shop woman, motioning for the woman to do what she wished with Sara.

The woman ushered Sara deeper into the shop, picking dresses off of racks as they passed them, Catherine following close behind, "Ah, yes, beautiful young woman," the woman smiled, "Such gorgeous legs, we'll need to show those off of course," Sara could just feel Catherine nodding in agreement, "And for color . . . I'm thinking a green, perhaps an emerald or a lime—"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a deep red, perhaps maroon?" Catherine added edgewise, and the woman chewed the idea for a moment before nodding.

"Ah, yes, I can see it now," she began to pull assorted maroon and brick-colored dresses from the racks, ushering Sara into a dressing room with an armful of garments.

Sara sighed, wondering how she'd lost all say in her attire to the dictator that was Catherine Willows. She'd seen this coming, of course. She shucked off her clothes and pulled on the first dress, a strapless brick-red dress with a hem ending high above her knee to show off her legs. It certainly looked good on her, she admitted, looking into the small mirror mounted on the dressing room wall.

"Let's see it!" Catherine called.

Sara stepped out of the small booth, smoothing the dress down as she 'modeled' the dress for Catherine and the shop keeper. They nodded the approval, but Catherine frowned slightly, "Looks good, but I don't think it'll do," she turned to the shop woman to answer her questioning look, "This is an . . . office party. We want her to look good . . . not bad, if you get my meaning."

'Well, at least I'm not the only one who thought it was a bit smutty-looking,' Sara retired to the dressing room to grab a new dress. She'd liked the dress, but it certainly wouldn't do. She'd have to beat the lab boys off with a stick, no doubt, but she didn't think it was quite what would . . . do it for Grissom. She smirked a bit to herself. Something a bit more conservative would be nice . . . but not too much, because dammit she did have some fine legs and Grissom was going to take notice.

As soon as she slipped into the satiny fabric of the second dress she knew that this, _this_ was the one. It was smooth as silk and colored a deep blood red, its cut very low and it's stringy straps cupped around her shoulders perfectly. The back was low, but not so low to be considered risqué, ending in a V shape about three inches below her shoulder blades. The fabric ended just above her ankles, sure to show off the elegant shoes that she'd be sure to buy to accentuate such an elegant dress and a delicate slit ran up the right side of it to mid-thigh, showing a peek of her legs in the perfect mix of grace and sensuality. She smiled, 'Take notice, Doctor Grissom.'

"This is it," she called out to Catherine, stepping out for the women to view.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Not much content, just a bit of a shopping spree. Hehe, it's nearly midnight, I'm sick as heck, and I've got work in the morning. Be glad you're getting this. Just kidding, of course. Will update ASAP. Review if you've got the time. 


	3. Glamorous Grissom

**Author's Notes:** I just can't get over how many reviews I get on CSI fics as compared to anime fics. Wow. Anyways, makes me want to update that much more! On with the fic!

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter Three – Glamourous Grissom

* * *

Gil Grissom stood stiffly in front of the mirror, straightening his black bow tie. He checked the clock on the wall, noting he had to be going soon if he planned to arrive in time to the ball. He'd mulled carefully over the prospect of the party, over his decision to go stag. Others would be bringing dates no doubt. His brow furrowed as he remembered hearing snippets of Greg inviting Sara. He was rather sure she had accepted; why wouldn't she have?

Nervous as a teen about to go to prom he straightened the tie again, grabbing his keys and pushing open the townhouse door. The sun was nearly hidden behind the cityscape and the night had begun to cool off, for which he was thankful, wearing as much fine clothing as he was.

The annual Policemen's Ball was held every year in the early spring at one of the larger convention halls in the town. It was a party for all the law enforcement personnel in the city, from traffic cops to Sheriff Atwater, from meter maids to SWAT. The hall would no doubt be packed to its limit if attendance was indeed mandatory for everyone this year, but from what he'd heard from the detectives and cops he'd encountered in the field as of late, Grissom got the impression that the mandate was centered on the Crime Lab, though the reason eluded him. His team's nights were much better spent when they were put to work.

He steered the Denali into the multi-level parking garage opposite the large building all glitzed up for tonight's events and meandered throughout the flats, looking for a spot. After some ten minutes or so he found a spot at the uncovered top of the building where no one else seemed to want to park, perhaps for fear of rain, as the sky to the east did hold some foreboding clouds.

He instinctively checked his reflection once more in the rear view mirror before exiting the vehicle and locking it. The sounds of people already at the part wafted up from the building below and the smell of eminent rain was welcomed by Grissom, glad he didn't have to worry about the impending downpour washing away multitudes of evidence. He cleared his throat nervously and began trudging down the stone steps at the outer edge of the garage.

Upon entering the ball room, so elegantly decked out in bright white lights and fine white linens that his eyes threatened to water, he scanned the crowds of people. No sign of Sara. Perhaps she'd not arrived yet. He frowned slightly, realizing he hadn't missed her entering on Greg Sanders' arm, and then mentally shook himself for such thoughts.

His eye caught Catherine standing near one of the large bay windows in the room talking to Warrick. They both looked nice, he noticed, Catherine clad in an elegant blue dress which managed to be modest while showing off some features she'd coveted in her previous job, Warrick sporting a plain black tux and red cummerbund. They nodded to Grissom as he approached.

"Hey, you made it," Warrick's voice was edged with surprise and amusement. He lifted a glass of champagne to his lips gracefully to hide his wry smile.

"You look nice," Catherine seemed equally surprised and amused as she eyed him up and down several times, beaming, and "Nice tux."

"Hmmm . . ." Grissom responded, distracted as his eyes make another scan of the room's occupants.

"Doc Robbins and his wife are upstairs," Catherine motioned to the balcony that wrapped around the entire room packed with people, "Nick's out in the courtyard . . . courting," she rolled her eyes hugely and laughed, "but no sign of Brass, Sara, or Greg yet."

"Maybe they found better things to do than stand around in stiff clothes with people they barely know," Warrick pulled uncomfortably at his tie, obviously out of sorts about the evening.

"Well, I know Sara's coming," Catherine responded off-handedly, grabbing a glass of champagne from a nearby caterer and handing it to Grissom who nodded his thanks.

"Cite your source," Grissom tried to keep his tone disinterested.

Catherine smirked at him in response before gliding off to talk to someone or other from day shift.

'Speaking of dayshift,' Grissom felt the little hairs rise on the back of his neck, "Conrad," he bowed his head cordially as the man approached wearing a stiff suit and walking to match.

"Grissom," Ecklie sneered a bit, "Surprised to see you here."

"You know Grissom, he can't resist a party," Warrick interjected.

Ecklie glanced at the man before turning back to Grissom, "So, can you _dance_?"

"Are you asking me to dance, Conrad?" Grissom smiled boyishly, taking pleasure in the ghastly look the day shift supervisor gave him in return.

"Eh, of course you can't. Not better than me, anyways," Ecklie shuffled off leaving a brow-furrowed Grissom in his wake.

"Did Ecklie just challenge me to a dance off?" Grissom turned a puzzled look towards Warrick who shrugged, bemused.

"The man's got it in for you, Griss. Don't embarrass yourself," Warrick laughed a bit and gave his boss a friendly nod as he snuck off to join Catherine.

Grissom studied the champagne glass in his hand for a moment, watching the bubbles dance within before floating to the top. He'd just wanted to spend a quiet night alone with his bugs and books . . . but now he was going to have to _out-dance_ Conrad Ecklie . . .

"Hey, Grissom, I hear you and Ecklie are gonna go at it on the dance floor!" Greg Sanders bounced up to him, half-laughing. He was dressed in a half-handsome half-garish light blue tuxedo and Grissom wondered sardonically why Greg had opted to leave the top hat, cane, and monocle behind this evening.

"Greg," Grissom was a bit surprised to see the young lab rat turned CSI alone, "Where's Sara?"

"Oh, I don't know, not here yet?" Greg shrugged his guess out.

"She isn't your date?" Grissom couldn't bite back the words, hoping Greg didn't wonder why he cared.

"Oh, no, but hey, at least I'm not the only one going stag," the younger man smiled at his boss, "Plenty of ladies around here looking for a dance partner and the Greggo is here for the taking."

"I'm sure they'll be so relieved you're here for them," Grissom smirked a bit, trying to keep his stomach from bouncing about so much. Sara wasn't going to be with Greg? Had she brought another date? That EMT? Perhaps she'd come alone . . .

Grissom pulled nervously at his bowtie, sipping from his champagne glass as he watched Greg wander off to 'woo' the female population of Las Vegas. As he glanced at the clock above the main entrance his eyes caught sight of someone just stepping in the entrance.

"Wow," Grissom half-gasped under his breath.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry that took so long! Hehe, I'm still sick, thanks for all the well wishes though. We're not really sure what I'm sick with anymore. Either way, I'll update ASAP and as always, if you have the time please review! 


	4. Stunning Sara

**Author's Notes: **Good news! I'm getting better and this fic is getting an update! Hehe, anyways, thanks for all the reviews thus far, I'm loving them. I make a habit of answering questions people ask me in their reviews, so we'll get that out of the way really quick.

**Jayke Manners**: I downloaded the song and I am liking it a lot but I just have so many reservations about working songs into my fics that I'm not planning on using it for fear of mucking up the fic. Great suggestion though, thanks!

**HYPERPISCES:** Sure sound can waft. Do not question me! Haha, but yeah, to waft is to flow smoothly through the air, which sound certainly can do.

**Augusta:** Read on to find out. Enjoy!

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter Four – Stunning Sara

* * *

Sara wondered it the heat in her face had belied itself with a blush as she stepped into the bright ball room. The few couples and crowds near the door turned and nodded politely, the men's eyes staying a bit long than they're dates, which she hoped was a good sign. She surveyed the people carefully, hoping to meet . . . and catch, in this dress, Grissom's eye. Among the crowds, however, she couldn't spot her boss. Her heart sunk as she leaned against the staircase a bit at the entrance, her shoulders obviously falling a bit.

'I guess this party won't be so great after all,' she chewed her lower lip carefully, sighing and straightening back up after a moment, 'Then again, it was stupid of me to expect he'd come. Of course he'd find some sort of excuse not to come. It is Grissom, after all. I guess I'll just go find Greg or Nick so I don't look pathetic coming just to walk back out again,' she mentally shook herself from her thoughts and readied herself to spend the and started down the short flight of steps to the main floor before a hand caught her arm gently, pulling her around. 'Please let it be Grissom,' was Sara's fleeting thought as she turned slowly.

"Sara," Catherine grinned as Sara turned to face her, eying the woman up and down appraisingly, "Nice. Looks even better without the tennis shoes."

Sara smiled and sighed, nodding a bit, "Thanks, Catherine."

"And I love your hair," Catherine continued, noting that Sara'd left it curled for the first time in a long while, causing the brunette curls to frame her face brilliantly, "Well, I suppose that means everyone's here now!"

"Is, uh, Grissom here?" Sara asked off-handedly, already rather convinced Catherine knew of her feelings for her boss.

"I talked to him a bit earlier," Catherine's eyes flashed towards a large bay window where a few lab techs and police officers were conversing, "But it looks like he ran off somewhere. Come on, you'll have plenty of time to talk to him later, right now we need to get you a drink," Catherine winked as she whisked Sara off to the large wooden bar to the right, "Free drinks."

* * *

Gil peered around the large police officer he'd been half-chatting with. Catherine was dragging Sara toward the bar, smiling and though her lips were moving rather quickly Catherine was saying something about champagne glasses making one seem more elegant.

Grissom couldn't tell whether he was frowning or smiling, and to be honest didn't really know which he should be doing. Sara was nothing short of stunning, he'd nearly dropped his crystal glass when he'd first caught site of her; she was wearing a dress the color of the blood they so often conversed over, and the dress was cut so low Grissom's thoughts wandered to places they'd not been in thirty years, well, not that he would like to admit, anyways. She wore strappy crimson pumps which just made her legs look that more sensual, the bits you could see from the slit running beautifully up the length of the dress. He knew he was frowning now, 'Tonight's . . . not going to be easy.'

Grissom's attention shifted from the two CSIs at the bar to Conrad Ecklie flailing about on the dance floor. Well, to be fair, he wasn't flailing, and he wasn't half-bad. Grissom just wished he'd been flailing. He met the other man's challenging gaze with a stone-cold frown, "Not easy at all."

"What was that, Dr. Grissom?" the police officer he'd been idly conversing with earlier turned to him, wondering why the older man was still talking, as he'd turned away several minutes ago when he'd noticed the entomologist's attention was turned towards the bar.

"Oh," Grissom swallowed hard, turning away, "Have a nice night."

* * *

"Sara! Catherine!" Greg smiled, waving excitedly as if they might miss him standing five feet down the bar from them. He was certainly lucid but the women could tell he'd already been taking advantage of the free drinks a bit more than the others had.

"Having fun I see," Catherine's voice was laced with amusement as she leaned against the bar next to the younger man as he ordered another drink.

"Hey, it's a party!" Greg laughed at nothing in particular, "That's the point!"

"Just . . . don't over-do it," the woman's voice was stern.

"No problemo," Greg smiled, fetching his drink. He turned his back to the bar, smiling hugely at Sara, "You're looking lovely, and as we're both without dates . . ." He left the proceeding to her own interpretation.

She smiled, "Perhaps a dance later," she glanced about the room again, but turned back after seeing not sign of Grissom.

Greg nodded and seemed to be holding back a hiccup as he took another sip, or swig, rather, of his drink, "More for you, Catherine," He turned a playful glance to the woman who rolled her eyes jokingly, "Shall we dance?"

She took his offered arm obligingly, winking at Sara, "Sure, I guess I can afford a pity dance."

Greg stepped back, clapping his hand to his chest in mock pain, "It hurts, Catherine, you cut me deep."

"Oh, come on, someone has to show Grissom how it's done, let's get on the floor," She tugged on his arm a bit.

"What?" Grissom's name had caught Sara's ear.

"Oh, didn't you hear," Greg took another drink, seemingly trying to finish his cocktail before sharing his exceptional dancing skills with Catherine, "Ecklie's challenged Grissom to a –hiccup- dancing contest."

Sara raised her eyebrow unbelievingly Catherine carted Greg off to dance. 'Poor Grissom,' she laughed a bit inside, considering. She'd never seen Grissom dance before, though admittedly she'd wondered about it many times before. He was an elegant man, and could be very graceful, and she was sure he was capable of being a beautiful dancer, if he did indeed know how. 'He knows pretty much anything else, I assume he can dance,' she smiled dryly, fetching a glass of champagne as the bar tender set it on the bar for her.

"Sara," a voice came softly from behind her and she turned slowly. This time it wasn't Catherine.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** My how I do love the cliffhangers! Mwa-ha-ha-ha! I'm so evil.

Anyways, sorry that took so long. A lot's been going on. Number one, I **SO** got into college. Criminal Justice with Forensic Science Emphasis is the major I've tentatively decided on. Not that you care. Also, I'm still sick, but have discovered what with. My basement, apparently, has mold. Freaky. Once again, not that you care. Hehe, I'll try and update in a timely manner, as I know you all wish me to, and I hope you'll review if you have the time.


	5. All Tied Up

**Author's Notes:** Well, moving right along then, time for a new chapter!

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter Five – All Tied Up

* * *

"Grissom," she half-squeaked trying not to seem overly enthusiastic as she turned to him. He was looking oh-so-handsome in a fine black tuxedo and black bowtie that seemed a bit off-center, as though he'd been fussing with it too much, "Hi."

"Sara," he blinked, as though unsure it was actually her and not some mirage.

"Grissom," she echoed, bemused, nodding a bit to prompt him into a conversation ranging outside of informing one another of their names.

"Ah, Sara," The corners of his lips twitched up and he ran the hand not occupied by his champagne glass through his curled grey hairs, hoping to dispel some of his anxiety, "I . . . you look nice."

"Thanks, Grissom, same to you," She lifted her glass to her lips in an effort to hide her tight smile. 'I look a lot better than nice, Grissom, but I suppose a straight-forward compliment's a gift, coming from you. Get what you get or you don't get nothing, eh?' She set her glass down on the bar, fighting the urge to cross her arms across her chest, "I hear you're going head-to-head with Ecklie," she raised an eyebrow in jest.

Grissom's eyes drifted to the dance floor where Ecklie was already well into the swing of things, so to speak, dancing more elegantly than one would think possible, "Not my idea."

"No, I wouldn't think it would be."

Grissom pulled at his tie anxiously, and it was the last straw for the black bow as it came undone jerkily under his pull. The scientist sighed dejectedly, "Excuse me; I have to go find Catherine."

"What for?" Sara followed him, amusement drawn lightly on her face.

He mumbled something about unhelpful diagrams as he continued to cut through the crowd in search of Catherine. It didn't take long for them to find her laughing her head off as Greg showed off his 'dance moves' reminiscent of a child flailing about in a swimming pool. Sara didn't doubt he'd be a bit better without the alcohol spurring him on.

"Catherine," Grissom held up the strip of black fabric, "I could use a hand."

She surveyed him for a moment and with a quick unnoticeable wink to Sara she grabbed one of Greg's thrashing wrists, "Sorry, Greg here's just about to step it up a notch and woo me," she rolled her eyes, obviously quoting something the lab rat had said earlier, "But don't worry," she patted Grissom's arm mockingly, "I'm sure Sara can help you."

As she nearly dragged Greg away, though he did manage to snag his drink from a nearby table, Grissom turned to Sara, cocking his head to the side questioningly, "I don't suppose you know how to tie a tie?"

She nodded, bemused, as she held out her hand for him to take, "Come on, I'll tie you up," she winked, taking semi-sadistic glee in the rose tint that played across his cheeks. He hesitated a moment before slipping his hand lightly into hers. She smiled to herself as she turned away; leading him towards the large mirror she'd seen in the vestibule when she'd come in.

As she pushed through the crowd she took delight in the warmth of the large hand enclosing hers. The chatter of the crowd and gentle sound of the music was dulled as they entered the foyer, nearly devoid of party-goers. Sara pulled him in front of the mirror and smiled at their reflections, 'You can't deny we look good together, Griss,' she thought happily.

She took the black strip of cloth from his hand and draped it around his neck, beaming up at him. He wasn't smiling, his face was characteristically bland, but she didn't mind, she knew he had to fight to keep it so blank, "Your mother never taught you to tie a tie?"

"Yours did?" He dodged the personal question oh-so-routinely, raising his eyebrow inquisitively.

"My brother was quite the ladies man," her voice was edged with amusement, "He was always going out on fancy dates, and sometimes he'd let me sit on his bed while he got ready."

"Learn through observation."

She nodded as she tugged on the edges of the bow and turned his collar down, "So, I saw Ecklie was getting a head start," she hinted casually.

He sighed, running his hand through his grey curls.

"You're not going to let him show you up, are you?" Sara fought to keep the laughter out of her voice. 'Come on, Grissom, ask me already. I know you want to.'

He straightened up, steeling himself, "I don't suppose you would like to—"

"Yes," she cut him off, nodding, "I-I'd love to."

He mentally shook himself and replaced his nervous frown with a delighted smile and opened the door leading back into the main room, "Shall we, then?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry that took so long! Had to go to the hospital and get all sorts of tests done. I know this one's kind of long, but, I'll be honest, I'm nervous about writing this dance scene. Egh, who knows how it's going to turn out! We'll see, I suppose, eh? 


	6. Two to Tango

**Author's Notes:** First off, thanks for all the great reviews, they're really encouraging me to keep with this fic. Sorry this update took _so freaking long_, but without the new episodes coming out my interest in the show has temporarily waned, but I won't leave you all hanging! (Though new episodes of Monk are on . . . Hmm . . . I've been meaning to do a Monk/Natalie fic. Oh, speaking of which, everyone check out my CSI fic 'Over Drinks.' /end Shameless Plug)

* * *

**CSI: - Party Fever  
**Chapter Six – Two to Tango

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Catherine smiled as her eye caught the entry doors opening. Grissom, avec bow tie, was motioning for Sara to follow him which she was doing wearing a sheepish smile and a slight blush. 'Perfect,' Catherine thought to herself, taking another sip of champagne, 'Now . . . to seal the deal.'

She strolled smoothly to the dais where the band was and motioned to one of the men, who turned to her curiously, "I don't suppose you boys know the tango?"

The man nodded and passed the word onto the other players as Catherine returned to stand next to Greg and Nick, who had joined them along with his date, a rather beautiful tech from day shift.

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As Grissom turned to face Sara, having finally reached the dance floor, he let out a deep breath, "Here goes."

Sara smiled back at him, taking each of his hands in hers, "Nervous?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly, looking around at the dancing couples around them. The band had just finished playing a rather slow number and the pairs remained swaying, waiting for the next song to begin.

"I'm sure you dance wonderfully," Sara assured, "Better than Ecklie, at least."

"That's not what I'm nervous about," his eyes met hers again as he sighed once more.

"No worries," Sara squeezed his hands.

"No worries?" He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"When I was a kid, a little kid, whenever I'd get hurt or cry or was worried about anything my mother would just wipe away my tears and say 'no worries.' I don't know why, but it always made me feel better," Sara explained, wondering when the band would start playing.

As if on cue they began a song that Sara just winced at the thought of, _I know you had something to do with this Catherine._ She was, of course, thanking Catherine in the back of her mind, but she could never admit that.

"Do you tango, Grissom?" She grinned at him coyly, moving one hand to his shoulder and stepping a bit closer.

He cleared his throat, though his nervousness seemed have been expelled by Sara's mother's magic words, "Of course," he meandered his arm around her waist gracefully.

As the music began to pick up several couples left the floor, sitting the dance out in favor of the open bar. Grissom was thankful; he'd not danced this particular number in years and he had enough trouble concentrating on the steps without having to worry about clumsily bumping into others. His eyes met Sara's as she gazed at him intently; stepping with such grace and beauty Grissom winced, knowing his clumsy steps must be making her look awful.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, seeing him frown noticeably.

"I think I was in college the last time I did this dance," he explained, his nervousness finding his way back to him.

"It's like riding a bike, Grissom," she responded softly, "Just don't think about it. Forget about dancing, just dance."

Grissom smiled softly into her eyes, relaxing, letting the music move his feet in rhythm with Sara's elegant steps, "No worries?"

"No worries," she smiled back, picking up the pace as the music spurred her to.

His apprehension melted away as he locked eyes with Sara, his body moving of its own accord, or so it must have been, considering his mind was far away, lost in her soft but piercing gaze.

She smiled almost shyly at him. She loved the tango, it was just a challenging and beautiful dance, but she couldn't concentrate. For all she knew she and Grissom had danced right out of the room, or perhaps collapsed into the chairs that skirted the floor, she could only see Grissom, feel him holding her close, but not too close, oh God not close enough, feel him staring into her eyes, unable to look away.

She could faintly hear the music continue to play, the music they were effortlessly moving in perfect sync with, the music lost to their ears as they traded steps, moving this way and that in a fluid motion as if they were the music themselves. He would retreat, she would advance, he would return as she would draw away, he would lean in, just to push her away again in a teasing step that hit oh-so-close to home with these two CSIs.

As the music began to die and couples returned to the floor for the next song, hopefully one a bit less involved, Sara and Grissom slowed their pace, not breaking from the gaze of the other.

"See?" Sara said so quietly Grissom wasn't entirely sure she'd said it at all, "No worries."

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**Author's Notes:** Damn that requirement of the picture of Sara and Greg. I wish I could just end the story right there. So great. Isn't that a great ending spot? Meh, I'll just have to out-do myself with an even better ending! Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up double-quick to make up for the delay on this chapter, which I apologize for.

I hope you enjoyed the dance, I was so nervous about writing it but I feel it turned out quite nice. Short chapter I know, but that's just such a great ending spot! Review if you have the time.


	7. A Picture's Worth

**Author's Notes:** Okay, I've thought of a way I'll do this, so let's get on with it. Sorry if the writing's a bit off, I'm kind of trying to watch Monk as I write. Hehe, yeah.

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**CSI: - Party Fever**  
Epilogue - A Picture's Worth . . .

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Sara sighed, falling cross-legged into the small space she'd cleared out among the boxes and papers and old tax forms. She surveyed the mess stonily, _If I don't do it now I'll never finish._

She seized the nearest clump of papers and cardstock determinedly, taking them into her lap and thumbing through them. There were all sorts of Hallmark cards from every occasion imaginable, old parking tickets long-since paid and forgotten, letters from esteemed scientist regarding this case or that research . . .

She grinned as her gaze fell on the next item in the seemingly endless stack, a photograph of a rather worn-looking entomologist sprawled across the floor with a confused toddler sitting next to him, about to swing at him with a small plastic hammer.

_"I'm getting too old for this, Sara," Gil Grissom groaned, staring at the ceiling, seemingly unfazed by the repeated strikes of the small boy sitting beside him, giggling up a storm._

"_Come on, kid," Sara scooped the two-year-old into her arms, "Daddy's too old for fun."_

Setting the photo aside she sifted through a few more receipts and notes before breaking into another wide grin as she looked upon another photograph. The smile she wore was almost as huge as the one a Sara Sidle many years younger wore in the photo, dressed in a beautiful crimson dress and turning up her skirt to reveal a garter the color of blood. Not to be outdone, a rather tipsy-looking Greg Sanders stood laughing beside her holding an empty champagne glass in one hand and hiking up his pants with the other to show and equally blood-red garter.

Sara shook her head down at the photo, "Oh, Greg," she laughed loudly before pushing herself up and grabbing an empty frame from the box, "That one's getting framed."

She pushed the photo behind the pane of glass and walked into the sprawling living room. Her smile persisted as she looked upon the photos already set up on the mantle; Gil Grissom running awkwardly with his hand on the seat of a bicycle attempting to keep his son atop it while the boy half-giggled and half-screamed; a brilliant picture of their wedding day, Sara's face framed by a veil tossed slightly askew when she'd pressed her lips to Gil's in preparation for the photo; a group-shot of the night-crew of the Las Vegas crime lab taken the night they were named the top crime lab in the country; and now a picture of Sara and Greg . . . with the exact same garter.

"Gill'll get a kick out of this," Sara laughed as she set the photo up and returned to her task with thoughts of a joyous evening and an elegant danced she'd danced so many times since.

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**Author's Notes:** Haha, BEHOLD! I hath finally updated! I apologize for the slow update and for the short chapter, but I felt it was the best way to wrap it up. Hope you enjoyed it. 


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